The Unquiet Dead. Gay Longworth

morning,’ she said, interrupting the women.

      ‘Jessie Driver!’ exclaimed Sarah Klein, standing up. ‘P.J. said you’d –’

      Jessie stuck out her hand. ‘Detective Inspector Driver,’ she cut in, trying to get her point across without sounding prim. ‘You must be Sarah Klein.’

      ‘Well of course I am. P.J. said you’d –’

      Jessie interrupted her again; she didn’t want to hear his name for a third time. ‘Please, let’s deal with the problem in hand. My colleague tells me that you think your daughter is missing.’

      ‘I know she is missing! Don’t you give me that policeman crap as well. I came directly to you so that I wouldn’t have to go through the usual hoops.’

      ‘The usual hoops are there because, thankfully, most “disappearances” are nothing more sinister than simple misunderstandings.’

      ‘She is missing, I tell you. Her phone is switched off – she never switches her phone off, she even keeps it on during the movies!’

      How considerate, thought Jessie.

      ‘P.J. is a very good friend of mine. Call him, if you don’t believe me.’

      ‘Ms Klein, it isn’t a question of believing you; it’s a question of dealing with this in an appropriate manner. What did she say to you when she left?’

      ‘Bye, Mummy, I love you.’ Sarah Klein spoke in a far-away, slightly childish voice. ‘I remember it specifically because it was so odd.’

      ‘It was odd that she told you she loved you?’

      ‘No,’ she replied defensively. ‘It was odd because she wouldn’t normally say it when she was popping out for coffee. She also told me what time she’d be back. Usually she’s very vague about that sort of thing, always changing her plans, but yesterday she said she’d be back at five because there was something she wanted to watch on TV.’

      ‘So she changed her plans often, you say?’

      ‘Yes, but …’ Ms Klein frowned. Jessie stared as the actress’s perfectly arched brows fought against the effects of Botox. ‘She would have phoned. She always phones – maybe not immediately, but she’d never stay out all night without calling me. And even if she did, she’d have phoned me by now.’

      ‘It’s only ten in the morning. Is it possible that she decided to go out with her friends, met someone and …’ How to put this delicately? ‘… is still with them?’

      ‘Absolutely not.’ The actress slammed her hands down on the armrests for maximum effect. ‘There is no way Anna Maria would go out without coming home to change first.’

      There was a knock on the door and Niaz came in with a steaming mug of coffee. Jessie inhaled the aroma. Canteen coffee had never smelled so good. But she didn’t get to taste it, or thank him, because Mark Ward suddenly burst through Jessie’s door, slamming into Niaz and causing the coffee to spill. Her fellow DI swore under his breath.

      ‘Sorry,’ he said, backing out of the room. ‘Didn’t know you had company.’

      Sarah Klein stood up. So royalty rises, thought Jessie, though not for women and not for people of ethnic origin. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, extending her hand. ‘Sarah Klein.’

      Ward was looking worried.

      ‘What is it, Mark?’

      ‘Don’t worry, it can wait,’ he said, retreating to the corridor with a final frantic glance at Jessie.

      Jessie stood. ‘Niaz, please stay with Ms Klein. Take a statement, a detailed description of what Anna Maria was wearing, her mobile number, the names of her friends and where and when she was planning to meet them. Then, Ms Klein, I suggest you go home and wait. Hopefully, Anna Maria will be back by the end of the day. If not, we’ll have everything in place to act.’

      ‘That isn’t enough,’ exclaimed Sarah Klein.

      ‘With all of that we can start looking at CCTV footage. We’ll be able to map her movements quite easily, provided you can give us that information.’

      ‘And then you’ll get the press involved?’

      ‘Probably,’ said Jessie, curious. ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘It’s the quickest way to get maximum coverage – for sightings and things. I hate the press myself, but I’ll do whatever I have to do, for Anna Maria.’

      What was it with these people? ‘Let’s start with the information I’ve requested. We’ll go from there.’

      ‘She has blonde hair and was wearing a Dolce and Gabbana dress –’

      ‘Please,’ said Jessie, taking the dripping coffee mug from Niaz. ‘Tell PC Ahmet.’

      Sarah Klein looked briefly at Niaz, but she was a good actress and disguised her disappointment well.

      As Jessie had suspected, Mark Ward was waiting for her in the hall. She mimicked strangulation as the door closed behind her. ‘I bet you a fiver the daughter has legged it,’ she whispered. ‘Is everything all right?’

      ‘I don’t know, how did that go?’

      ‘A couple of ageing actresses first thing in the morning, how do you think?’

      ‘Shit,’ said Mark.

      ‘Tell me she isn’t appearing in a play that’s dying a death. Can you believe how far these people will go to get good box-office receipts?’

      ‘But that’s just it –’ Mark stopped but Jessie had already felt the draught. Her office door was open. She turned. Sarah Klein’s clone was looking at her with a very unnerving expression on her face. Clearly she’d heard what Jessie had said. Her only option was to bluff it. But before she’d even managed to force her mouth into a smile, or utter polite platitudes, the angry woman spoke.

      ‘That was very unimpressive.’

      ‘I’m sorry if you think that, but in my experience –’

      Mark pushed the back of his shoe into Jessie’s heel. She ignored his warning. She’d had enough of the arrogance of vaguely famous people, assuming they were more important than everyone else and therefore deserving of special treatment.

      ‘– these sort of situations –’

      ‘How can you possibly judge the situation when you didn’t ask the right questions?’

      ‘If you have anything to add, please go ahead.’

      Mark pushed her aside and stepped forward. ‘Driver, perhaps you haven’t met –’

      ‘Careful,’ protested Jessie.

      ‘I think he is trying to tell you to be careful. Thank you, Mark, but I think we can handle this from here.’

      Jessie looked from her colleague to the heavily made-up woman and back again.

      ‘Handle what?’ asked Jessie.

      ‘That will be all, Mark. Thank you,’ she said imperiously. To Jessie’s astonishment, Mark nodded curtly and left. A little hole opened up beneath her feet and she looked longingly into it. But the ground was solid; she wasn’t going anywhere.

      ‘DCI Moore,’ said Jessie, offering her hand. ‘I don’t believe we’ve properly met.’

      ‘No. Seems you were unavailable to attend my induction yesterday afternoon. DI Ward said you were …’ she paused looking Jessie up and down, ‘indisposed.’

      Bollocks was the only word that sprung to Jessie’s mind. Bollocks. Bollocks. Bollocks.

      ‘I wouldn’t have got where I am if I didn’t know the difference between indisposed and a hangover. You, DI